


SNL Monologue?

by jehc



Series: ultimatum [3]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2107305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehc/pseuds/jehc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miranda is not a comedian. No beta just something I dashed off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SNL Monologue?

I don't own anything relating to Devil Wears Prada, but I like it!

 

Miranda stood in front of the Saturday Night Live audience with a sheaf of paper in her hand. She glared at the paper, she glared at the people off stage, she glared at the audience and then she gave an exasperated sigh and began to speak. “I am an editor, not a comedian.” She glared off stage again. “I really don't understand why I was handed this list of what appears to be jokes,” she looked at the papers in disgust. “And I honestly can’t believe I am expected to actually tell them.” She gazed out at the laughing crowd with her eyebrow arched and a look of horror on her face.

Back stage the production staff and actors were gapping at each other and trying to figure out what the hell they were supposed to do. The woman had gone renegade. The producers were franticly preparing something as a filler so they could pull Miranda off stage.

“I am an editor, I edit things.” Miranda looked out at the crowd and pointed to a young woman in a red Vera Wang jacket. “You,” the woman looked all around and pointed to her own chest and mouthed me? “Yes, yes, you come here.” 

“Ok” the woman said as she got up and began to walk forward.

Miranda then pointed to another woman in a royal blue jacket. “You, in the blue Bill Blass, come here.” This woman also got up slowly and moved down to the stage. Miranda looked at the two audience members and said, “Switch jackets.” They both looked at her slack jawed. Miranda rolled her eyes and pointed to the red jacket and said, “Take it off, I can’t imagine what you were thinking when you put on a business skirt and a casual jacket.” 

The editor then turned to the woman in the blue. “You too, take it off! An executive blazer with blue jeans, really.” She took the jackets and then handed them back to the wrong owner. She looked at the ladies expectantly. They hesitantly donned the jackets. Miranda nodded and said, “Consider yourselves edited.” The women didn't move so Miranda shooed them back towards their seats with a sharp “thats all.” They smiled sheepishly as the audience laughed.

While this was not the kind of monologue expected in this venue, the audience was clearly amused and engaged as they were ordered to switch belts and scarfs. Miranda pointed to a woman in the front row. She was practically shaking as she answered Miranda’s summons. It seemed as if everyone was holding their breaths waiting to she what Miranda would do. The woman she called up was rather mousey in cheap well worn clothing. 

“When you choose your ensemble for the day you must always remember to accessorize to your outfit. One must decide what will be appropriate for the occasion, time of day and season. Once you have your clothes decided, only then will you decide on jewelry, belts, shoes and so forth.” She looked down at the woman trembling before her. “There is however one notable exception,” Miranda reached out and touched the string around the woman's neck, “the macaroni necklace.” The audience roared with laughter and the woman in front of her looked like she was about to cry.

Miranda squeezed the woman’s shoulder as she looked around the room imperiously. “Navigating the macaroni necklace is an experience every working mother will have.” Miranda looked back over her shoulder and called, “Emily.”  
Her assistant ran forward from back stage. “I believe there are several items that came with us that would work with this jewelry.” Emily reached out to the shaking audience member and escorted her back stage. 

“Ah, yes,” said Miranda in clearly fake rhapsody. “There is nothing quite like the joy you feel when your daughter presents you with a green and yellow polka dotted string of pene pasta.” She put her hand to her chest. “One can never forget the smile on her sweet face as she tells you that it is a perfect match with your dress for the following weeks party.” Miranda closed her eyes while the audience laughed. “Thank God my gown was black, it really does go with everything. I must say my jewelry was the hit of the Gala.” 

Amid the laughter from the audience Emily led her charge back on stage. She had dressed her in a Michael Kors metallic knit swather and zip pocket skinny jeans, woven low top sneakers rounded off the outfit. Miranda nodded her approval. “As I am sure you can see the metallic weave in the sweater works perfectly with the glitter on the ziti. I have always found that the casual nature of Michael’s clothing tends to go excellent with pasta.” 

When the music indicated her time was over Miranda left the stage to a standing ovation.


End file.
